17 December 2005

Lane marker

I gave myself an early Christmas present yesterday and bought a membership at the Y. I've been dying to start swimming laps again, something I did a bit obsessively in college. I am generally obsessive about all that I do, really. And the thing that was killing me was that I had a relatively new racing suit languishing in my sock drawer at home, having bought it a few years ago on a whim. And I also still own a very nice, rather expensive pair of goggles with prescription lenses in them, so that I don't bump into the sides of the pool, as I am blind as the proverbial moonbat without my contacts or glasses.

This isn't one of those New Year resolutions to get fit or anything, screw resolutions. It just so happens that the timing is finally right, and I finally have the money, and the Y is right off the highway. I'll be seeing a fair bit more of the highway in days to come, what with the new commute and all.

(Oh, did I mention? I got the job. Wheeeee!)

And so, I will swim laps, sometimes in the early mornings before work, sometimes in the late afternoons after work, perhaps the occasional lunch hour dip, depending on how hard it is to get a lane to myself in this pool.

I wonder how hilariously out of shape I am, how many laps I'll be able to complete without clinging dazedly to the side of the pool and wondering if it would be easier to swim if I shaved my legs more often. The last time I tried to get back into swimming I was smoking an insane number of cigarettes daily and working in a nightclub. That didn't go so well. There's a law, I think, that if you work in a nightclub, you aren't allowed to have any healthy habits. Even bouncers aren't really supposed to work out to get all big and strong and surly; it's best if they are just born that way.

At least I don't smoke any more. That at least gives me a fighting chance in the pool.

And how out of shape I am really doesn't concern me too much, either. I used to be all, ooh, I have to lose some weight before I can get back into a suit. But -- I don't know if it's age, or wisdom, or apathy -- I've reached the point where I honestly don't give a damn what anyone else thinks about me in a swimsuit. I want to swim, dammit.